A Case for George Cukor
by itsavolcano
Summary: Cracky stories meant to entertain through the long hiatus. All are meant to be a little screwball-y. Post "Blue Bird" with established Jisbon. Various ratings.
1. The Airstream Story

_The Airstream Story_

Someone was banging on the door of his Airstream, the aluminum shifted and buckled in the frame, but Jane didn't care to get up from his bed. He was too comfortable. And with any luck, his visitor would take the hint and leave. He'd been awake for hours, content to sit in bed and think about the last few days since returning from Miami.

"Jane, open up!"

Ah, Cho.

"Open up! I know you're in there. Where else would you be?" Another heavy-fisted knock.

It wasn't like Cho to seek Jane out, even if he was truly concerned. It would take a lot for him to— Jane heard a muffled voice. A feminine voice. Ah, so the invasion of privacy was Fischer's doing. That seemed more likely, she did seem to have a strange influence over Cho. The next time he felt like going in the office he'd have to mess with them a bit, maybe see if he could create a little havoc.

Before Jane could formulate a plan of how best to toy with Cho and Fischer he heard a scraping sound at his door followed by a sharp click. He smirked. They'd picked his lock. He'd have been proud if he weren't so annoyed by their presumption.

He saw the duo step into the Airstream before they saw him. Sitting in the bed at the far end of the trailer, his back against the wall, Jane watched as they moved toward him. Cho surveyed the scene in one quick swoop as Fischer strode down the narrow aisle.

"Are you planning on ever returning to work, Jane?" Her tone was low but scolding. Yeah, she and Cho would go together well. Of course, it wasn't exactly professional to repeatedly pair off his teammates, but then again he wasn't one to care about decorum. "It's been five days since Lisbon left. I understand you're upset, but remember your deal: you work with us, you don't go to jail."

"That deal is null and void." Jane licked his lips, his mouth felt like cotton. "Requirement number one was to work with Teresa Lisbon. Teresa Lisbon quit the team, ergo, no deal."

"You'll go to jail." Fischer was shocked, her eyes wide as she spoke.

"Meh, unlikely."

"So you think the FBI will let you mope in a trailer they bought, in a parking lot they own, free of charge?" She was getting fired up now.

"The government does funny things."

"He's lying, he's not quitting. He's on vacation," Cho finally spoke up, having spent the first few minutes simply studying the interior of the Airstream piecing together clues and tidbits. "You're not alone are you?"

"Hmm?" Jane forced his face to go blank. Fischer looked between Cho and Jane, confused and then stunned as she began to piece together the situation.

"You aren't the type of person to need a stack of pillows. I've seen you sleep in a bullpen on a worn out sofa for years. And that lump next to you looks strangely human. I'd say about 5 foot 4."

Jane remained silent but there was a slight glint in his eye. Without another word, Cho pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and hit a number on his speed dial. Oh, this was about to get good.

A sharp trill filled the trailer. Within three seconds Lisbon shot up from where she'd been curled against him, having pulled the covers over her head in her sleep. She flung the blanket back, eyes slightly open but unfocused, hair in a mussed ponytail, night shirt falling off one shoulder, cheeks flushed from sleep. She looked young and adorable.

"Get up Jane, we have a case." She was still groggy, reacting on years of instinct. She was also unaware of their visitors.

"No we don't, love. Go back to sleep." He tugged her elbow and she fell back against him, murmuring as she snuggled against his chest. Jane pulled the blanket back up around her. Fischer's jaw dropped and Cho actually smirked as he tucked his phone back in his pocket.

"So you were lying." Fischer finally found her voice, amusement coloring her tone.

"Ah, yeah." Jane smiled. "Pending Abbott lets Lisbon rejoin the team, of course."

"Of course." Abbott would agree to those terms. Lisbon was too valuable of an agent despite Jane's theatrics when it came to his list of demands. Suddenly, Lisbon stirred against him and flung the cover back off, now more awake than she had been a few minutes before.

"What time is it?" Her voice was still scratchy from sleep.

"Well, darling, not too early for visitors." He looked pointedly at the two agents at the foot of his bed. Lisbon didn't notice.

"Hmm. Did my phone go off? It did, didn't it?"

"It was just Cho, trying to make a point." His voice was soft.

"Cho? What point?"

"Yeah, Cho, what point?" Jane directed the question over Lisbon's shoulder.

"That you weren't fooling anybody."

Lisbon jumped and turned a wide eye over the room before slumping back under the covers with a groan. She was probably plotting how to punish him. He looked forward to it.

"Oh, I don't know, I had Fischer going until your little phone stunt. Pretty sure I taught you that, too, by the way."

"When were you going to tell me they were here?" She pinched him in the side and he yelped.

"They broke in—another example of my influence, I might say—and you're pinching me?"

"You could have told me."

"What would you have done?—Where could you have gone? You're not wearing pants." He bit back a grin as she flushed a bright red and glared.

"Is that really the way you want to handle this right now, Jane?"

As they continued to bicker, Cho cast a long-suffering look at Fischer and then tilted his head to the door. It wasn't until the door slammed that Jane took a breath.

"Well done, Lisbon, played right along with my plan. We do make a great team sometimes." He ran his hand down her arm, pretending not to notice her continued scowl.

"What plan?"

"The plan to pretend to argue until Cho and Fischer left."

"Oh, you think that was pretend, do you?" She raised an eyebrow, but he saw the slight gleam in her eye, heard the touch of laughter in her voice.

"Come now, what should I have done? We're on holiday. We took the scenic route back from Miami, we've had a nice relaxing time in the Airstream—"

"Relaxing?" She smirked.

"Well, I feel very relaxed, very zen, Lisbon." He heaved a dramatic sigh, practically telegraphing his intentions. "At least, I did feel relaxed until my home was invaded. Now I'm rather…"

"Not relaxed?" Smiling, she leaned up on elbows, her lips ghosting over his.

"Exactly."

"Suppose I should do something about that, then?" She kissed him, her fingers dancing down his chest.

"I don't know that I'll ever feel relaxed, again." He sighed once more.

"Ever? Never ever?" She pressed her lips to his again and he shook his head.

"Oh, well, in that case," she stretched back out and curled her body away from him, her back pressed against his hip. She grabbed the book she'd placed on the window ledge and found her marked page. Jane worked his jaw, rolled his tongue around in his mouth, and looked over at her.

"This is my punishment for that crack about you not wearing pants isn't it?"

"Yup."

He shrugged as if he'd expected nothing less from her. Lisbon curled up against him while reading a book was a punishment he'd gladly take. He pulled the blanket from his legs and stood.

"I'll make tea."

— Fin —


	2. The Emerald Dress Story

_The Emerald Dress Story_

Agents MacAuley and Stewart of the cyber division weren't talking as quietly as they apparently thought. No, Teresa Lisbon could hear them outside the bank of restrooms on her department floor. Although she could only catch clips and phrases, she knew what they were up to, what they were whispering about. They were trying to poach her consultant to crack their copyright infringement case—a case they'd spent the better part of the week trying to solve. She'd dealt with this sort thing back at the CBI, when people talked about Patrick Jane like he was the solution to all their sticky problems. Instead of solving their cases themselves with good old-fashioned police work, they would bring them to Jane, fully aware that he enjoyed a challenge. But even more than a good challenge, he enjoyed being _right_.

Normally, Lisbon wouldn't stand in his way. These days, if he wanted to do some stunt (within reason) that was fine with her. She appreciated the bounce in his step and the gleam in his eye when he solved a puzzle. He was learning to enjoy himself more fully, and it warmed her heart. But it was Friday night and she had _plans_. MacAuley, Stewart, and whatever stupid case they had—seriously, copyright infringement could wait until Monday—would not get in the way of those plans.

Peeking out from the heavy restroom door, she watched the two agents continue down the hall. It appeared they were taking the long way around to Jane's sofa. She just had to beat them there. Amateurs.

Smoothing her hands down the the length of her dress, Lisbon picked up her pace, the staccato of her heels echoing through the rather empty FBI. It _was_ Friday night, most people had left as soon as it was acceptable.

She rounded into the bullpen and sighed with relief. Jane was wedged in his favorite corner of the sofa, that day's paper open in his hands. He looked great, dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt, opened at the collar. His new black shoes were freshly polished, and he'd tamed his hair back. She felt her skin prickle with heat. MacAuley and Stewart were not going to ruin their night.

"Wowza," Fischer cocked an eyebrow at Lisbon, her hip against Cho's desk. Cho spun around and his eyes grew wide.

"Come on." Lisbon nudged the arm of Jane's sofa.

"Lisbon, why so frantic?" He didn't look up from his paper but there was a touch of amusement in his voice.

"Let's go."

"Go?"

"To dinner. C'mon, we need to go." She would pick him up off of the sofa if she needed to.

"Our reservation isn't for an hour."

"We can take a long drive." She huffed, her hands on her hips. She hadn't spent the day wearing her silkiest bra and panty set under her itchiest pant suit just for Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dumber to jeopardize her evening. "_Jane_."

"Hmm?" He finally looked up, taking in a sharp breath when he saw her. Lisbon felt a tug of satisfaction and pride as he dragged his gaze up the length of her body. She was wearing one of the dresses he'd purchased for her in Miami, the tight-fitting emerald green lace number that hit just above her knees and left her shoulders bare. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders in thick waves. Getting ready in the restroom of the FBI had been a challenge, but judging by the dark gleam in Jane's eye, she considered this dress a success.

"Jane—_Patrick_." She bit back a smile as he folded the paper and quickly dropped it. She called him by his given name all the time now, but usually outside of the office. Whenever she called him Patrick at work, he gave her his full attention, well aware it usually signaled something important. "MacAuley and Stewart are on their way over here. It's Friday night and they think you'll be more than happy to help them crack whatever dumb case they have."

"Copyright infringement is no laughing matter, Lisbon." The playfulness in his tone told her he thought differently.

"Oh, please, the last case they cracked was a bunch of blue-haired ladies in Boca Raton who were illegally downloading episodes of _Diagnosis_ _Murder_ to screen at poker night."

"Hmm. Maybe this case is more interesting."

"Jane."

"You know I love a good puzzle, Lisbon." There was teasing twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, I do know that. How about if I give you a puzzle to work over in that brain of yours?"

He perked up.

"Am I taking my gun to dinner?"

"Knowing you, you'll be packing heat, yes." He winked.

"Alright, look at this dress, Jane."

"Hmm." His eyes cut down her body again, then openly, appreciatively, his gaze moved back up. She didn't even care if Cho and Fischer were standing near them. Fischer was soaking up the entire exchange while Cho, still confused by the shift in their relationship, shook his head.

"Would you rather spend your evening figuring out just how I took a gun to dinner in a dress like this, or would you rather spending your evening with the guys who let blue-haired ladies get the best of them?"

Jane worked his jaw back and forth, his brow furrowed as he considered the situation.

"You raise a very interesting quandary, Lisbon." He tapped his finger against his lips.

"Jane!" she exclaimed just as MacAuley and Stewart entered the bullpen. It appeared they stopped for snacks. MacAuley, a portly man in his mid-50s, dropped shelled peanuts into his open gob while Stewart, the more athletic of the two, casually threw a green apple in the air.

"Hey Jane," Stewart tossed the apple up and caught it. "We heard you were still here and thought you might be interested in—"

Jane pulled himself up off the couch in one fluid motion, utilizing his full height.

"It seems you were mistaken, fellas." He gave a grin.

"Huh?" MacAuley frowned, peanut dust on his mouth.

"I am, indeed, _not_ here." And with that Jane clapped both men on their shoulders before turning to Lisbon. "Shall we go for that _long_ drive?"

Lisbon smiled brightly as he led her to the elevator, leaving behind a confused MacAuley and Stewart.

"I hate to disappoint, but I'm not actually wearing my gun to dinner." She leaned back against him and whispered as he pressed the elevator call button.

"If it's alright with you, I'd still prefer to draw my own conclusions, Teresa," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "You know how I prefer to explore all possibilities in a very _hands on_ manner." He brushed her hair to the side and dropped a kiss to her shoulder as the elevator doors closed.

Once they were out of sight, Fischer chuckled and pushed off of Cho's desk while he shook his head again.

"Still weird," he mumbled, powering down his computer before heading for the door.

— FIN —


	3. The San Francisco Story

_The San Francisco Story_

It was the second day of an unexpected long weekend in San Francisco and Kimball Cho was trying his best to relax. Under normal circumstances, he it wouldn't have been a difficult feat, but something had been bothering him over the last few weeks and he needed a second opinion—or even a third.

His Austin-based FBI team had been requested to assist with a murder case in San Francisco. The wife of a prominent (and now dead) senator demanded the man who brought the corrupt California government to its knees return to solve her husband's murder. Jane had solved it under two hours, setting a trap to snare the embezzling assistant—a "honeypot" as he'd gleefully called it, with a bounce in his step.

Cho had expected Lisbon to be annoyed by how quickly he'd solved the case, but she'd only rolled her eyes as she slammed the dumbfounded murderer against her car. The Friday morning flight to California had taken longer than the actual case and now the team was stuck in San Francisco until Sunday evening.

It was Saturday evening, and Rigsby and Van Pelt had agreed to meet for dinner, happy their dear friend was in town. And even happier it wasn't with some vengeful psycho hot on his heels. Cho let Rigsby decide where they ate, not really caring about the food so much as the discussion. He wasn't surprised when Rigsby picked a steakhouse they frequently visited whenever cases brought them to town. His friend had a soft spot for the honey butter and homemade buttermilk biscuits, and the steaks were always perfect.

"We need to talk." Cho's serious tone gave Rigsby pause and his forkful of juicy, medium-rare steak and mashed potato hung in mid-air. Van Pelt nudged her husband and he seemed to re-animate, quickly shoving his perfectly constructed bite into his open mouth.

"What's up, man?" Rigsby chewed and Cho ran over all the possible ways to kick off their conversation, all the ways he could ease into it. But _easing_ into something wasn't his style.

"Boss and Jane," he started, deciding to stick with his straightforward nature. Rigsby nodded, swallowing another bite and suddenly Cho was distracted. He was reminded of a cow chewing cud. "Are you even enjoying that?"

"Yeah, it's great." Rigsby sawed into his steak once more and Van Pelt laughed. "Anyway, what about Lisbon and Jane?"

"They're together."

"Hmm?" Rigsby swirled his fork in his mashed potatoes, dragging it through the thick river of flour gravy. He was so engrossed in his meal he didn't notice his wife's sharp gasp.

"_Together_?" Van Pelt leaned forward, dropping her own fork and knife to the table. Her face broke out in a wide grin as Rigsby looked up at her, confused.

"Wait, _together_?" He washed down his last large bite with a gulp of beer.

"Yeah, weird, huh?"

"No, man, it's about time." His old friend leaned back in his chair. "Seriously, how long did that take."

"Are you telling me you _knew_?" Cho's jaw dropped.

"Knew that they had a thing? Yeah. We talked about it, remember?" Rigsby took another gulp of beer. "Wait, you mean _you_ didn't?"

"It's weird!" Cho sounded hysterical to his own ears, his voice a pitch higher than normal. Rigsby snickered.

"You really didn't know?" Van Pelt's tone was incredulous.

"Know what? What was there to know? Nothing about their relationship screamed 'romance'." Struggling to wrap his head around the change in Jane and Lisbon's relationship, Cho decided to approach the situation as he did a difficult case, pulling together all the evidence at hand. "He'd do something dumb, she'd yell at him and cover his ass, then he'd buy her ice cream."

"Sounds like marriage, man." Rigby winced when Van Pelt smacked his arm.

"C'mon, Cho, you honestly had no idea?" Van Pelt tucked back into her thick-cut fries.

"I think he knew," Rigsby draped his arm over the back of her chair, his tone teasing. "I think he knew, he just didn't want to see it. Didn't want to think about Mom and Dad like _that_."

"Shut up," Cho groused. "They fight all the time!"

"Exactly." Rigsby snickered, wagging his eyebrows.

"Oh my God," Van Pelt gasped. "They're here."

The three former CBI agents all spun around, looking in the direction of the host station. Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon didn't notice them, however. Jane was too busy flashing a smile at the young hostess, no doubt trying to win her over and snag the perfect table, while Lisbon just watched him, amused.

The girl turned on her heel and led them into the dining area, thick leather bound menus in her hand. The three friends could only stare as Jane took Lisbon's hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. He carefully shielded her from fast-moving servers and tipsy patrons. The image of a gentlemanly Patrick Jane wasn't so much of a stretch-he was always mindful of opening doors and holding chairs. But what was surprising was how Teresa Lisbon seemed to melt into his side. She _welcomed_ his leading hand. Rigsby took another large gulp of beer, surprised by the sudden appearance of his former boss and her long-time consultant. However, the gulp of beer was too large, their arrival too surprising, and the drink went down the wrong pipe. Rigsby managed to swallow, but it quickly turned into a cluster of embarrassing coughs.

_Loud_, embarrassing coughs. The kind that can only stop after _more _gulps of beer. Van Pelt smacked him on his back, roughly. Again, he winced.

The whole situation caused more of a scene than he'd realized, and the young hostess turned her head to see if she was needed. Jane and Lisbon, ever the public servants, followed her gaze. Immediately, Jane's face broke out in a wide grin and he whispered to the woman. She nodded and led them over to their friends and former teammates.

"Fancy seeing you all here!" Jane grinned, Lisbon's hand still tucked against his elbow.

"Yeah, yeah, wow," Rigsby muttered, his voice still hoarse from the coughing fit.

"Do you mind if we join?" Lisbon asked, her smile warm. Before anyone could reply, Jane motioned for two chairs and soon the former CBI team was sitting around their favorite San Francisco steakhouse, just like old times.

But so much had changed.

"We weren't interrupting anything, were we?" Lisbon opened her menu and turned to the sandwiches section as Jane studied the other three detectives, a smile on his lips.

"Oh, I think we were interrupting gossip hour."

"Gossip hour?" Lisbon ran her index finger down the menu. "Is Cho finally owning up to his crush on Fischer?"

"I knew it!" Rigsby shouted, pointing at his friend who could only glare.

"Uh, no, Teresa. I think the topic was a little more…" She glanced up when he paused, and he motioned at the space between them.

"What?" She watched him as continued to gesture, tilting his head in her direction.

"Us, darling. They were talking about _us_." He casually dropped his arm along the back of her chair.

"Oh!" Lisbon slammed the menu closed, a soft pink blush on her cheeks. Just then the waiter came around to take their orders and Lisbon was grateful for the distraction. She looked over at Jane, who was clearly amused by her flustered state. Back in Austin, she didn't care about the gossip, but plop her down at a dinner with some of their oldest friends and she went three different shades of red. He found it adorable.

"I haven't looked at the menu, yet, Teresa," he spoke up as she leaned forward to give her order to the waiter.

"You never look at the menu here. You always order the same thing."

"Maybe I want to try something new, it's been years since I've been here. Maybe what I like isn't something they do now."

"Maybe the steakhouse no longer cooks steak? Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm saying those green beans were something special, they could've just stopped making them. Maybe the demand became so great they couldn't keep up and the quality suffered."

Lisbon rolled her eyes and gave the waiter her best long-suffering look.

"Do you still serve green beans?"

"Yes, ma'am." The waiter frowned, confused.

"With the ham and the pearl onions?" Jane spoke at a low whisper for Lisbon's benefit.

"Green beans with ham and pearl onions?" She repeated.

"Yes… ma'am." The waiter looked too tired to deal with whatever shenanigans Table 38 was concocting.

"OK," Lisbon took on a professional, no-nonsense tone. "He'll have the tenderloin, cooked medium, with a side of those green beans and side of fries. I'll have the pulled pork sandwich with the coleslaw on top and… a small house salad."

Jane groaned.

"What?" Lisbon looked over her shoulder.

"You're ordering the salad but we both know you're going to eat _most _of my fries."

"I thought you only cared about those green beans?"

"Not the point."

"Can you double up on the fries?" Lisbon turned to the waiter who only nodded and scribbled something down.

"You could just order fries instead of a salad," Jane offered.

"It's not as much fun." Lisbon handed over the menus as Jane gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He ordered them both a lager before the waiter could hurry off.

Having watched the entire exchange with wide eyes, Rigsby turned to Cho.

"Seriously? You had _no _idea?"

He suddenly doubted his friend's detective skills.

\- FIN -


	4. The Great Caper Story

_The Great Caper Story_

"Stop _that_," Lisbon hissed in Jane's ear as he softly dragged his fingers along her smooth, bare thigh. He appeared nonplussed, his hand coasting under the hem of her navy blue pencil skirt. She pretended not to notice the slight crinkle of amusement at the corner of his eye.

They were currently on a sting, curled up in a leather booth of a moderately extravagant hotel lounge. And although Jane's hands on her skin was quickly becoming her favorite pastime, she was too aware of her surroundings to fully enjoy it. For example, Wylie mumbling geek-speak in her ear piece was a bit of a mood killer. The tech specialist was controlling several cameras carefully placed throughout the room, and Lisbon didn't want any of those cameras catching Jane's roaming hands—or her reaction.

She quickly looked over to the smaller table where Cho sat, dressed in a dark suit and trying unsuccessfully to _not _look like a lawman. Jane had teased him that his usual baseball cap and t-shirt would be out of place at this establishment. Cho had only adjusted his tie and picked up a newspaper, assuming the persona of a high-level investment banker.

They had been called in at the last minute to assist the team investigating a recent string of jewel heists throughout the greater Austin area. It had taken Jane three hours to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Before lunch, he'd realized the scrawny thief caught leaving on one of the jeweler's security cameras was planning to fence the second largest emerald in the country to a renowned black-market buyer—Joe Holly.

Holly was a man with thick pockets, and an even thicker gut. He was greedy, and willing to go to all possible lengths to get those exotic baubles he coveted, regardless of the dirty method. A classic narcissist, he relished completing his under-the-table dealings in broad daylight, at his favorite table of his favorite establishment. It was so predictable Jane had barely cracked an eye open from his couch. His quickly developed plan for scoping out the lounge had seemed fool-proof hours ago, but now Lisbon was having second thoughts. Mainly, she was having second thoughts about sitting so close to him in such a public space.

Her crossed knees were pressed against Jane's leg while his free arm rested behind her head. She squinted her eyes and tried to focus, tried to pay attention to the table across the room. And while she wished she could blame the lounge's poor lighting, Lisbon knew the real distraction was Jane's wandering hands.

The room was dark due to the combined effect of the low lighting and the glossy, cherry finish of the wood paneled walls. The luscious carpeting was a deep purple with flecks of gold thread running in a diamond pattern and chandeliers teetered in the gentle air-conditioned breeze above each table.

She cast a glance up to the ceiling, fully aware that slapping Jane's wayward hand would cause an unwanted scene, and he clearly wanted to cause a scene. He also knew she wouldn't give him a dose of his own medicine, not with the entire team so close by.

His fingers inched up higher—_dangerously_ high—and curled around her thigh. Before she could choke out an admonishment, his hand fell away and his posture straightened as he studied Holly. Lisbon nearly fell forward from the loss of contact and her knee smacked the table, jostling the cutlery and glassware.

She swallowed a curse and then blushed as Jane lovingly rubbed her throbbing knee, the heat of his hand a comforting balm. His attention remained locked on the criminals, and as his brow furrowed, Lisbon sensed he was onto something. Before she could form a question, he leaned back against her, his lips brushing along the shell of her ear, down along the slope of her neck.

He ran his hand down the sleeve her of blouse and, bringing her captured hand to his mouth, kissed each fingertip before nipping his teeth over the pulse point at her wrist.

"Does our bandit have a name yet?" Jane whispered, directing his question to Wylie via the small microphone tucked under Lisbon's sleeve. She shivered involuntarily and he grinned. She was about to threaten him with bodily harm, but a wicked gleam flickered through his eye and she knew he'd find it more of a promise than a punishment. He was enjoying himself too fully. And, despite the audience, so was she. If they weren't on the job, she could so easily turn the tables on him, but he knew her well enough to know that would never happen.

"Davey O'Connell." Wylie's voice crackling through her ear bud was a douse of cold water.

"O'Connell," she muttered, attempting to untangle herself from Jane's grasp. He pulled her closer to him as she strained to focus on Wylie's words. Lisbon reached for her highball, pretending it was the smoky sting of scotch that was affecting her senses and not the man pressed against her. "Up until recently, he was a pretty low level crook, but now it seems he's looking to move up into high-society crime."

"Ah, and let me guess," Jane wrapped a tendril of her hair around his finger as he spoke, "Holly's his first big fish?" She took a larger gulp than necessary and nodded. Jane turned his attention back to Holly and O'Connell. According to Wylie, the cameras weren't catching any exchange of goods, but their posture told him each person was definitely carrying—O'Connell, the emerald, and Holly, either a sizable packet of cash or a heavy pistol. Lisbon smiled warmly and Jane quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Wylie's reading their body language," she answered his unspoken question.

"Oh, really?" His voice dipped with pride.

"Says O'Connell definitely has the emerald on him, but Holly might be carrying more than just money."

Jane nodded and leaned back towards her, but before he could make another move, Lisbon stroked her fingers over his chin. He smiled and turned his mouth against her wrist.

"Tell me Wylie," he spoke, turning her arm and dropping a silent kiss against her skin, "which hand is Holly holding his fork?"

"Left," Lisbon offered, feeding him Wylie's responses.

"And is Holly favoring one side more than the other? Is he leaning his body a particular way?"

"To the right."

"He's not armed." Jane held Lisbon hand against his chest and her eyes grew wide as she followed his train of thought.

"The money is in his right coat pocket." She smiled when he winked at her, pleased by her deduction. "If he were carrying a gun, he'd favor his left side, regardless of where he'd stashed the money. But how does that help us? We can't just sit here all day, waiting for this white collar version of _High Noon_ to come to a head."

"I'm perfectly comfortable just waiting it out, Lisbon." Jane punctuated his remark with a wolfish look and she attempted to frown, but the amused gleam in her light green eyes gave her away.

"I think Cho might prefer we get this show on the road, Jane." From his table across the room, Cho folded his newspaper in half—a sure sign of agreement. No doubt, he was tired of their public display of affection. He'd grown accustomed to the change in their relationship, but there were still moments when he looked at them like they were strangers. And maybe they were, in a way. They had managed to keep this part of themselves hidden so well from each other, they'd managed to fool the great Kimball Cho, too.

"Fine," Jane exhaled more dramatically than necessary and dropped her hands. Then tossing back the rest of her scotch, he stood. "What side is O'Connell favoring?"

"Left." Lisbon eyed him warily, recognizing the signs of a stunt brewing. With one quick swoop, he pulled her to her feet. Lisbon didn't have time register anything before his lips were pressed against hers and he was lifting her up off the ground. He sat her down just as quickly, letting out a whooping shout in the thickest Texan drawl she'd ever heard. Slightly stunned, she struggled to keep her face neutral.

"Aw, my lil' chickadee, you've done made me the happiest cuss in all of this here county!" He moved quickly around the room, the eyes of the other patrons turned to him, taking in the strange spectacle. No doubt they were wondering how this new-money redneck got past the gatekeepers of their classy establishment. "My darlin' agreed to get hitched!"

Jane gestured wildly, and moved closer to Holly and O'Connell. Pulling out the spare chair next to O'Connell he hoisted himself up on the plush seat. He pointed to the nearest waiter.

"You got any of champagne around here? Or, no! What's that stuff you love, darlin'? Prosecco?" The legs of the chair wobbled, unaccustomed to such displaced weight. "Never mind, I'm sure whatever you got is more than fine! Nothin' can bring me down for this high I'm on, not after my beloved has agreed-"

Lisbon saw the gambit just as Jane's chair toppled over and he landed on O'Connell. Cho bolted up but held back, letting Jane's ploy play out. Despite his small stature, O'Connell heaved Jane off him with a sharp shove and a string of even sharper curses.

"What's the big idea? Get off me!" The scrawny man pulled himself up to his feet and brushed his jacket.

"Darlin'! Look what I found!" Jane held up the 1.2 karat emerald as O'Connell lurched forward. "The heavens are just openin' up today! I'm gonna have the jeweler cut this down and make your engagement ring. I bet he'd even have enough left over to make earrings, those danglin' kind…"

"That, dear sir, does not belong to you." The rotund Joe Holly's voice was menacingly low, and Jane had the distinct impression the man favored himself an Orson Welles-type character.

"Now, see here, it was under this table. I found it, fair 'n square." Jane turned his body away from the man, the jewel tucked against his chest.

Lisbon noticed a distinct shift in the atmosphere as Holly pulled himself up from his chair with more speed than she'd expected and fished a gun out of his left pocket. Jane's eyes narrowed and he dropped the love-bitten Texan persona.

"Ah, it seems I was mistaken, my lil' chickadee," he directed his words to Lisbon but his gaze remained locked on the gun. "Of course, I should've realized it before, you favored your right side because money means more to you than murder. A man like you wouldn't leave home without some weapon, not when you were meeting this low-rent criminal."

"Give me my jewel." Unperturbed, Holly cocked the gun.

"Give _me_ my money!" O'Connell was frantic.

"Really?" Jane took a look around at the room full of witnesses. "That's how you want it to go down? Just brandish your gun like some old school outlaw, take the emerald, and—sorry, O'Connell—take your money, then walk out the door?"

"I don't think that's going to happen, do you?" Lisbon spoke, drawing her gun and badge. Cho wrenched the gun from Holly's meaty grasp, his own gun trained on O'Connell.

"How'd you know my name?" The thief paled. But before anyone could answer, agents swooped in and dragged the two men out, cuffing them and reading their rights.

A few moments later, Lisbon tucked her gun away as Jane sidled up to her side, rocking up on his toes. Casting him a sideways glance, she held out her hand.

"Hand it over."

"Hmm?" His eyes were wide as he feigned innocence.

"The emerald, Jane, hand it over."

"I gave it to Cho." He patted his hands along his pockets.

"Sure you did."

"Teresa, honestly." His voice was soft, but she saw right through him.

"Honestly?" She smiled up at him and ran her hand down the buttons of his shirt. His eyes darkened as her fingers danced over the thin fabric. She raised up on her toes and dropped soft kisses along his jaw line, before stopping at the corner of his mouth. He softly groaned. Then, as she pulled back from her gentle assault, she held up the emerald, having plucked it from his jacket pocket while he was distracted. "Oh, look at what I found."

"Hmm, how'd that get there?" A touch of amusement played across his features.

Lisbon turned to walk away, a smile still on her lips, as Jane chuckled.

"Really, my lil' chickadee," he drawled, quickly catching up and falling in step.

\- FIN -


	5. The Wicked Right Jab Story

I've been writing so much angst lately, I needed a little break. All typos are mine; I'll find them eventually.

There is a direct quote from one of my favorite screwball comedies in here. A cookie if you find it.

_The Wicked Right Jab Story_

Teresa Lisbon hated fundraising benefits. She felt as if she were on display, forced to participate in a pageant she had little intention of winning. At the few fundraisers she'd had to attend during her time at the CBI, she had always managed to make a graceful exit as soon as the opportunity arose. But tonight was different. Tonight, she and her team were on hand to act as undercover protection for a visiting dignitary who had experienced a recent increase in threats. Abbott had stressed it was imperative the guests remain unaware of the heightened security, and told them to blend in seamlessly. For the most part, they had managed to do just that. For the most part. Lisbon cast a glance over her shoulder where Cho was holding up the wall, his usual g-man expression remaining in place as people fluttered and twirled around them. A moment later, Fischer appeared near his elbow and Lisbon smiled at nearly imperceptible startled expression that took over her friend's face.

Turning back to the crowd, Lisbon sighed. The ballroom was filled with too many tight smiles and too much alcohol she couldn't touch.

From across the room, she spotted Jane talking with a pretty woman with boxed-blonde hair. She was standing much too close for Lisbon's comfort. A waiter passed, carrying a tray of flutes of champagne. The blonde quickly scooped up two glasses, pressing one in Jane's hand and Lisbon arched an eyebrow at the scene. _Oh really_.

She wasn't the jealous type when it came to Jane—at least, not anymore. She knew she held his heart and his devotion. Their relationship was an equal partnership. But she couldn't help the spike of jealousy she felt as the blonde feigned an overzealous laugh and clutched Jane's arm to steady herself. This was just too much. It was precious, really. Truly precious. Jane caught her watching from across the room, a dark and hot gleam shining in his eye. Like a magnetic pull, she found herself moving across the floor to him, her midnight blue sheath dress shifting with the sway of her hips. That his gaze was fixed on another woman never registered with the blonde. It wasn't until Lisbon sidled up to Jane, that the woman noticed much of anything. She looked up, a moment of confusion on her features before annoyance took over. Lisbon bit back a smile.

"Off getting me champagne, darling?" Lisbon's voice was thick with a high-class, old money accent to rival Katharine Hepburn. Jane grinned, always ready for a performance of any sort, and promptly handed the flute over. With a saucy wink, and to the bewilderment of the blonde, Lisbon downed the champagne with one smooth tilt of her head.

"Oh, my, Maxwell really brought out the big guns tonight, didn't he?" She tapped her index finger against her empty glass and smiled warmly before setting it on a passing tray. "Patrick? I don't believe I've meet your friend," she cooed as Jane wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her against his side, an amused look on his face. Without waiting for an introduction, Lisbon held out her hand and offered her name. The woman, Denise, shook her hand and smiled a tight smile—not unlike the majority of the people in the room. Denise quickly found a reason to excuse herself from their presence, waving to a couple across the room and claiming she needed to speak with them immediately.

Once she'd disappeared back into the crowd, Lisbon relaxed her posture and smirked.

"Good lord, I can't take you anywhere," she teased and Jane hummed in playful agreement.

"Well, she _is_ a lovely type." He raised up on his toes for a quick second, hand in his jacket pocket, as Lisbon stepped closer.

"Oh? You got types?" She ran her hands down his lapel and he pulled her against him.

"Only you, darling. Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws." For emphasis, he pressed his lips to her jaw, just below her ear. "What do you say we skip out of this shindig, find a secluded spot…"

"We're on duty, Jane," she murmured, half-heartedly, as his fingers moved in soft circles along her back.

"Abbott said we're supposed to blend in, act like the natives. What better way than to sneak off and make love on some overly expensive rug, preferably in front of a roaring fire with a glass of 50 year old scotch…" His voice, tantalizing and sinful, ran through her like liquid fire.

She felt herself giving in to the allure of the scene Jane painted. With one gentle tug of his hand, they could slip from the ballroom and down any number of corridors. He would push her against the first flat surface they found, his body pressed above her, his kisses hot against her bare shoulders. He would run his hands up her thighs, dragging the long silky skirt along her skin until he gripped her hips in his warm, wide hands and then…

Lisbon's earpiece crackled with static. _Oh, shit. Their mics were still hot. _She flushed with embarrassment immediately.

"Guys, I hate to burst whatever bubble you've got going on," Fischer's voice was heavy with amusement as it splashed through the earpiece, a douse of icey water. "But Wylie's recording all of this in the van outside, and I'm pretty sure you're ten seconds away from corrupting a minor. Plus Cho looks like a stunned guppy fish right now."

"Right! Sorry." Lisbon grimaced at the high pitch of her voice before leveling her stare at Jane. He quickly opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it when Lisbon jabbed him in the soft part of his ribs.

"Ow! C'mon, I forgot we were wired. What can I say, dear Lisbon. When you're in my arms, I lose sight of my surroundings, and only have eyes for you."

She rolled her eyes, a hint of smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Save it, Buck-o, or the only sight of me you'll be left with is in that memory palace of yours." And with a subtle adjustment of her earpiece she turned on her heel and put some distance between them.

"Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws," Jane murmured to himself with a faint chuckle. Then, wincing, he rubbed his sore ribs. "And a wicked right jab."

Jane snatched a flute of champagne from a passing tray and shuffled his feet, content to stay to put for the remainder of the evening.

\- FIN -

Comments are lovely!


	6. The Brunch Break-In Story

_a variation on a previously explored theme. but it's my favorite theme._

_The Brunch Break-In Story_

It wasn't the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds or the sated and snoring man curled around her that woke Lisbon. It wasn't even the slight chill from the air conditioner, left on overnight, or her rumbling stomach. No, it was the heavy knocking—heavy _pounding_, really—on her front door that woke Special Agent Teresa Lisbon from her blissfully restful sleep.

The knock was heavy and decidedly unfriendly. Her heart sank. A moment later, as she tossed Jane's arm back from around her waist and pulled on the nearest piece of clothing (his dress shirt) she heard a scratching sound. Someone was picking the lock. Adrenaline rocketed through her bloodstream.

"Jane," she half whispered, half hissed as she quickly keyed in her code for her sidearm lockbox tucked in her closet. He groaned and clutched her pillow, burrowing further into the mattress. "Someone is trying to break in. Might be friendly, but knowing our luck, it's probably foe…"

"Come back to bed, Teresa. It's probably just a stray cat." With eyes still closed, Jane raised a hand and clawed at the air before dropping his arm back down and tightening his hold on the pillow. She was on her own.

With well-practiced poise, she moved through the one-level house—a task that was made more difficult by the tossed books, scattered mail, fallen knick-knacks, and discarded bits of clothing littering the front hallway. She and Jane had been rather _amorous_ after their dinner and movie date, having left quite a trail of destruction from the entryway to the bedroom.

She kicked a super-sized _Restoration Hardware_ catalogue across the hardwood floor and drew her gun up, ready to confront the assailants currently attempting a B&amp;E, when she saw a flick of auburn hair at the small crescent-shaped window in the door. Then, a large hazel eye peered in the window and Lisbon groaned, recognizing the attacker was neither criminal nor cat, but Van Pelt.

Dropping her gun back to her side, she quickly turned the deadbolt and flung open the heavy door to find her old CBI team, plus Fischer, standing on her porch in varying states of amusement or embarrassment. Rigsby sputtered and turned tomato red while Van Pelt bit her lip to keep from laughing. Cho was so startled by Lisbon's appearance his eyebrows practically disappeared against his hairline, and an amused Fischer hid her grin behind her hand.

"Hey, guys," Lisbon started, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if she wasn't answering the door wearing only her partner's button-up. "What brings you all over here-Oh, my God. _Brunch_." She slumped against the door and Van Pelt nodded.

"You invited everyone over for Sunday brunch, you know, before Wayne and I flew back to San Francisco." Rigsby and Van Pelt were in town for a three-day security tech conference, and while they had all managed to see quite a bit of each other during those three days, Lisbon had wanted one last big get-together before they headed back to California. Of course, it had completely slipped her mind last night… She rocked back on her heels and grimaced as her bare foot landed on the sharp point of an ink pen cap.

"And when you didn't answer your phone, or the door, we got worried," Rigsby added, trying valiantly to not size up his former boss's legs.

"And then we looked in the window and saw this mess," Cho nodded to the trail of debris in the hallway. "We thought there might've been a struggle."

"But now, judging by," Fisher gestured to Lisbon's state of undress and disheveled hair, "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say there wasn't _much_ of a struggle." She was no longer bothering to hide her grin. In fact, Fischer was practically vibrating with restrained laughter as Lisbon turned pink.

In that moment, because he was always a man with impeccable timing, Jane came around the corner, his bare feet sliding across the smooth hardwood floor before halting next to the catalogue Lisbon had kicked in her haste to get to the door.

"Oh, hey, yikes, what a mess," Jane toed the through the scattered mail before glancing up. His stopped, startled by the early morning guests. "Ah, hi guys. How's everyone doing?" Stalling, he tried to gain his bearings, something about friends and breakfast foods fluttered at the back of his brain. He was supremely relieved he'd had the forethought to pull on his pants before searching for Lisbon, although in retrospect he probably should've buckled said pants. Or put on a shirt. But that would have been more difficult since Lisbon was currently wearing his shirt... while holding her sidearm. Jane's gaze darkened and Lisbon caught it, as did nearly everyone on the porch (minus Cho, who studiously pretended to have noticed _nothing_).

"Are you kidding me, right now?" She shouted.

"I'm just as surprised as you are, my dear, although not by much. After all, remember that sting we set for ol' Dr. Carmen back in Sac-town?"

"You mean when I was framed for murder?" Her glare narrowed.

"Yes, there was _that_. But I was thinking more of your ensemble from that performance." Jane dragged his eyes down her legs. "Still happen to have that jersey?"

"This gun is loaded." Lisbon held up her right hand, the weight of the gun tipping her wrist back.

"Meh, you don't scare me, there's a troupe of law enforcement standing right behind you." Jane shrugged one shoulder.

"And they've all worked with you, I think they'll corroborate my story." She cocked an eyebrow, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Then I suppose I should distract them with food. After all, they were promised brunch, were they not? Fry up some flapjacks, some bacon. My world-famous eggs." Jane motioned for everyone to enter. "Be careful of all of the… stuff."

"Jane?" Lisbon trailed behind him as their guests headed to the kitchen and dining room. "Might wanna put a shirt on."

"Ah, yeah, good idea. Or that fry up might have negative consequences."

"I'll say." Lisbon removed the clip from her gun.

"Although, you _are _still wearing my shirt." Jane grinned and pulled Lisbon to him, kissing her cheek as she once again blushed. "If you think about it, between the two of us we have a complete outfit."

"Just put the coffee on, would you?" She nudged him toward the kitchen as she slipped away to the bedroom.

"Alright, alright. I'll even make it extra strong, 'cause I like you so much."

"Oh, hey, Jane?" Lisbon called from the doorway of the bedroom, smirking as he turned back towards her. His eyes grew wide, taking in the always welcomed sight of a bare Lisbon before his button-up landed on his head. "Don't forget your shirt."

FIN


End file.
